If I Break #4 Shattered Pieces

by Portia Moore

  “Did you eat?”

  He shakes his head.

  “How long have you both been at this?”

  “Maybe a half hour. I’m going to give her a bath.” I stand and stretch.

  “I have a bag of stir-fry I can whip up if you want to read to her after her bath while I make it,” I say while he hands Caylen to me. His eyes are grey like Cal’s but there are no swirls of green around the iris. They seem dull today, and he yawns. He’s tired, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen him tired before. He follows me up the stairs, him heading into our bedroom to shower and me into our guest bath to clean up Caylen. Today’s Thursday which means he’s met with Helen. He never really talks about his sessions with her, only saying that they’re making progress and I never ask about much because I’ve become accustomed to not getting answers or because I’m afraid to hear them. Today I think I’ll put his words to the test. He says we’re on the same side, that he won’t hide anything from me, so I think it’s time I know more of what’s going on whether I like the answer or not. I sing to Caylen while bathing her as she splashes water and bubbles all over me and I think of Chris. When I wrap her in a towel and change her clothing I think of my approach. Collin is so different from Chris and Cal. He appears transparent, but I don’t know if it’s because he knows that’s what I crave or if he is really like that. By the time I’m done bathing her, he’s out of the shower, wearing a pair of white pajamas that look silk with an East Asian design. I swear he has more clothes than me, and he smells delicious and fresh. His hair is pulled into a man bun, and I have to conceal a giggle because it’s so different from anything Cal or Chris would wear, but he looks good. We swap off Caylen and I take a really quick shower, throw my hair in a bun, and whip up the stir-fry I’ve perfected.

  “Perfect timing,” I grin as he makes his way into the kitchen. He pulls out a bottle of wine and opens it as I plate the food.

  “Wine tonight?” I ask curiously. He doesn’t really drink, he’s only drunk three times around me and it’s always been cognac.

  “It’s for you,” he retorts teasingly while pouring me a glass and sitting it next to my plate.

  “Are you trying to get lucky?” I tease him playfully.

  “We both know I don’t need to give you wine for that,” he says biting his lower lip, and I fight the thought that comes to mind when he says that because tonight I want to talk, and I can’t do that being so easily distracted. With Collin it is so easy to become distracted, he offers a world of answers but there always seems to be a trade-off with him, each piece of information he gives me seems to come with a hidden condition. As time passes the difference between the three of them becomes more apparent. Initially he reminded me of Cal but now even that comparison has narrowed. We both sit down and he turns on some smooth jazz, which has grown on me since he’s started playing it. My eyes take him in, and it doesn’t matter how long I’ve been with this man, I can stare at him forever. I think of how many days I spent alone here before I found out the truth, how much I missed Cal, how I dreamed we’d be whenever he came back, how I still held on to hope despite how things looked, how clueless I was then about what my reality would truly be.

  “You’re quiet?” he says, and my eyes lock on his. They’re not dull how they were earlier but now full of the usual contemplativeness. I take a spoonful of the stir-fry, and it could be more seasoned. Chris’s food is so much better than mine.

  “I’ve been thinking,” I tell him hesitantly. He swallows a bite of his food, and his head slightly tilts to the side as his eyes gleam at me.

  “Always a good sign,” he counters and I fold my hands together.

  “What’s going on with your treatment?” I let it out quickly, and I expect him to become defensive, but he doesn’t. He takes a spoonful of his food and drinks a glass of his water before responding, allowing the nervousness in my stomach to double.

  “I know your sessions are private but it’s just been on my mind a lot,” I admit.

  “I’ve been waiting for you to ask. I don’t know why you still think you can’t talk to me because I told you, we can talk about anything,” he replies easily looking me directly in the eye with a warm smile.

  I clear my throat and try to calm my nerves. “I know I just…”

  “I’m not like them, Lauren. I don’t know how else to show you that so you can trust me. The things I do are in the best interest of all of us, not just me. You can talk to me about anything,” he says directly. I look down guiltily.

  “Come here.” His tone is warm but authoritative. I stand up and walk over to him. He takes my hand and pulls me down on his lap, and turns my face toward his so he’s looking me directly in the eye. I stare into them, wondering if I look hard enough will I see all the men behind them, if I can see Collin’s actual motives.

  “Helen is trying to reach Cal.” He says this easily but my breath hitches. “She needs him to be stable before we can think about integration.” My heart speeds up at how casually he says this. He grins at me seeing how surprised I am.

  “Was that hard?” He slips his hand underneath my T-shirt and rubs the small of my back, but it’s not the signature pattern that Cal used to trace.

  “No. How will she make him stable?”

  “Therapy, but he has to be open to it. He thinks he knows everything and that he can fix himself.” While he says this, his other hand trails up my thigh. I fight the stinging in my chest, thinking how distraught he last was.

  “He’s going to be okay.” Collin promises and cups my chin.

  “Can he hear me? Can he see me now?” I am almost afraid to hear the answer, but I want him to know I’m here and that I miss him. Though I am nervous for him to know what’s going on, he has to know if there is any chance for them to become one. I’m starting to get a headache.

  “He’s in good hands. Helen’s the best in her field, and if he’s broken that makes me broken. Do I look like something’s wrong?” He has a playful glint in his eye. I stand from his lap and grab the wine bottle and pour myself a glass. I feel antsy and jittery.

  “I’m sorry, I’m just not used to you talking so casually about them.” I think back to the night when Cal came back and took me to the Venetian, how he shared bits and pieces of history but it was like pulling teeth. Chris hated to hear Cal’s name, but Collin acts like he’s not bothered at all as if it’s routine. He knows so much more than both of them and it’s intimidating. He has answers, but I wonder why he’s so willing to share with me and not them if integration is really what he wants. I swallow several gulps and let out a deep sigh.

  “One glass will be enough,” he says his tone low, and I roll my eyes.

  “You’re not my father Collin.” I retort a little annoyed.

  “Don’t do that talk to me,” he says his brows furrowed.

  “Don’t do what?”

  “Start a fight. You say you want the truth, that you want honesty and transparency but I don’t think that’s what you want at all,” he says smugly. I laugh at him. “You’ve gotten used to being kept in the dark.” He continues. And I scoff at him.

  “You of all people should know I never chose to be in the dark. I’ve always only wanted the truth. I just want a glass of wine; I don’t want you to tell me what to do. You may be used to all of this, but I’m still adjusting okay!”

  “Fine, drink the whole bottle then,” he says sharply standing from his seat, his jaw jutted forward. I’m a little shocked, and surprisingly at a loss for words. This is unlike Collin. He doesn’t really show his emotions so easily, and I can’t believe he’s this annoyed even when I do something I know bothers him. He usually will still appear indifferent, but right now his eyes are wide, his skin tinged red. He was perfectly calm before and though I wouldn’t say he’s full-on angry, his mood has swung from left to right.

  “I know you and Cal had this sick pattern of fighting and screwing to avoid problems, but I’m not an angry teenager. When you want to actually talk to me,
when you’re ready to be an adult, I’ll be upstairs.” He leaves the room, and my mouth hangs open.

  Is that what I do? Am I still a coward after all of this, afraid to hear the truth? I’m afraid to even read too much into a message forum. I sigh and sit down at the table and stare at the glass of wine. I should talk to someone. It only makes sense that I end up screwed up in all of this. I pick up my glass and frown at it then shrug.

  There’s no sense in wasting good wine. I pick up the bottle and try to finish it.

  Collin

  Something’s not right.

  I overreacted.

  I don’t overreact.

  Of course she’s not used to honesty, she’s never had it. Cal likes his secrets, and Chris is too clueless to tell her anything. She’s so afraid of hearing the truth; she may not even trust what I say as the truth. She’s been in the dark so long; her eyes have to adjust to the light. I should have been calmer, but I wasn’t. I’m off-balanced. It’s more difficult than I thought trying to block him out.

  Cal and I always had a deal. I help him, I let him know when Christopher will come out, and I’m on his team. I’m never biased or choose sides, but Chris of course couldn’t handle knowing about us. He can’t handle life when it gets difficult, so Calvin and I worked together. We have never considered each other friends, but amicable. In the past, our agendas have aligned more than Christopher’s and mine.

  Now they don’t.

  Calvin’s problem is that he never thinks strategically only emotionally. He and Christopher do have that in common, though they handle it in vastly different ways. This is the first time mine and Calvin’s motives aren’t in alignment, and now that they aren’t, he could be a problem.

  He will have to be contained.

  She’s in the doorway, her eyes downcast, her arms folded across her chest. “I want to talk to someone,” her voice is quiet and conciliatory.

  “Haven’t you been seeing Helen?” I ask her curiously though I already know the answer. I make it a point to make sure to know how often they speak.

  “Yes, but I think it’d probably be better for me to talk to someone else, someone not so connected to everything.” She walks toward me and sits on the opposite side of the bed.

  “Is everything ok?” I ask her trying to hide my concern. It’s easy for Calvin and Chris to get so wrapped up in their own issues that they don’t realize how much pressure Lauren can be under. She’s only human, and the last thing I need is for her to have a psychotic breakdown. It concerns me that she wants to talk to someone else. I know she had her issues with trusting the Crestfields but I thought we had gotten over that.

  “Yeah,” she nods. “Actually no,” she follows up with quickly. I turn towards her.

  “I’m sorry about how I acted earlier.” Her hazel eyes are striking as the day I first saw them. When she hones them in on you, when she doesn’t try to hide how she’s feeling, they tell her whole story.

  “I’m sorry too,” I tell her, and she smiles softly. “I know I’m not your father.”

  “No, you were right. Partially at least,” she adds with a grin. “I’m an adult and can do what I want, but maybe I have developed certain patterns that aren’t entirely healthy. I don’t know how to handle… all of this sometimes. It can be a little overwhelming and I want to talk to someone who isn’t so involved, who doesn’t have a bias,” she says hesitantly.

  “Helen, you want to talk to someone who isn’t Helen?” I know I’ve grown on Lauren. I know that she loves me, regardless of what Calvin says. Lauren loves all of us. We’re one but she can’t help being skeptical of me, and I can’t blame her for that.

  “If you want to see someone else you should,” I tell her. She looks at me and her eyes light up, but then she rubs the back of her neck. I stretch across the bed and pull her toward me.

  “I never told anyone. I never had a chance before everything got so hectic,” she says with a small sigh. I swallow hard and feel my heartbeat becoming erratic. I try to steady it, and take slow deep breaths that won’t alarm her.

  “Dexter Sr. threatened me.” She looks me in the eyes, and I can hear my heartbeat in my ears now loud and echoing.

  “It wasn’t a threat to kill me or anything but when he found out Chris was trying to see another doctor, he basically said that he’d ruin us financially. Not only us but also Raven… Hillary,” she says quietly and I have to let out a laugh. This isn’t a big deal; Dexter Sr. is full of shit, and a control freak. He is not anyone to be afraid of, and I know more than my fair share of dirt so she doesn’t have to be afraid. I feel prickles of anger rising up and a thirst to lash out is coursing through me and I know it’s Cal.

  “You don’t have to be afraid of him,” I turn her face so I can see her. “He’s threatened when he isn’t in control of things. Control is his drug. Don’t worry about any of the Crestfields.”

  “Not even you,” she says lightly. There is a twinkle in her eye and it causes me to grin. She really does see me as one of the… “You’re a knock off Dexter.” I swallow hard when Cal’s words echo through my mind.

  “I’m only kidding.” She squeezes my hand reassuringly as she must have seen my reaction to Cal’s words.

  “You can see whoever you want Lauren. He won’t interfere, and I’ll make sure of that.”

  She looks relieved and rests her head on my shoulder. I inhale her scent, and let out a deep breath.

  “Christopher is going to come back,” I tell her quickly and her body stiffens. She looks at me her face littered with shock.

  “What do you mean?” she asks nervously.

  “He’s ready now, and he has to get treatment from Helen.” I try not to reveal a hint of emotion because I shouldn’t feel any. I don’t do emotions, but I can’t say that seeing her eyes light up at his name doesn’t make my stomach turn. It’s a new feeling. Being indifferent is so much easier, but what’s more important is that I have to contain Calvin and it’s easier to do with Christopher being at the forefront. She looks at me as if she’s studying me.

  “You… you know when he’s coming out?” she asks, her brows knitting together.

  I nod. “I know everything, Lauren.” This is what I love about her. She asks questions but never the right ones. She squints at me, and I can tell she’s having a silent battle with herself, unsure of what to say or how to feel. She lets out a deep breath and presses her hands to her cheek.

  “How long is he going to stay?” Her voice is shaky and low.

  “As long as it takes,” I tell her. She turns her body fully toward me, her eyes seem sad and I grip her chin.

  “Don’t you miss him?” My voice is tighter than I imagined it being. Her eyes drop to her chest.

  “This is so…” She says throwing her head back. Her neck is long and perfect, and I fight the urge to kiss it, to leave my mark on her.

  “I’m sorry. You being honest is exactly what I’ve wanted for so long. It’s just I’m still… I’m trying to get used to it,” she whispers.

  “Sometimes what you think you want the most isn’t all you dreamed it would be,” I tell her and our eyes meet. She clears her throat and her gaze lands back on her lap.

  “Does Chris know that he’s coming back?”

  “No.”

  “And he won’t remember anything?”

  “No,” I tell her again. She bites her lip and shakes her head.

  “So I’ll be left to try to put him back together again.” She laughs mirthlessly.

  “He won’t want to see Helen. He was so angry the last time he was here.” I take her hand and pull her toward me and lift her onto my lap. She rests her head on my shoulder.

  “And he’s going to be upset about…” She trails off as my fingers run up and down her back.

  “Us.” Our eyes lock on each other’s.

  “You don’t have to tell him.” She leans back, so we’re eye to eye.

  “You mean lie to him?” Her brows furrow together, her eyes like gla
ss, lips stained with the red wine she drank earlier.

  “It’s not lying,” I tell her as my lips find her neck.

  “Omitting the truth might as well be,” she whimpers opening up her neck more to me.

  “Gwen will be here in two days. Helen has an appointment set up every day this week for us. I’ve handled things at work. Christopher will be fine.” I promise her while my hands slip underneath her T-shirt.

  “You talked to Gwen?” she asks surprised, and I grin at her.

  “She’s my mom, isn’t she?” I tease her and a glimpse of a smile appears on her face.

  “So I don’t tell him about you, about how…” She trails off again as my fingers slip inside of her bra.

  “Close we are.” I tease her before taking her lips in mine. I taste the wine on her tongue; she whimpers, her body still tense, fighting what she wants so bad to give into.

  “It would be better for him if I don’t say anything?” she asks as I lie her on the bed.

  “Christopher doesn’t do well under pressure. Telling him what he wants to hear until he’s ready would work out better for everyone.” I wait for her to melt into me as she usually does but she’s stiff and tense. I thought she’d be happy hearing about Christopher. Relieved even. She pulls away from me and gets off the bed.

  “Everyone’s lied to him. I don’t want to be added to the list.” Her voice is weak but her face is like stone. Her eyes are filled with confusion, guilt, and a little fear. Her wanting to be loyal to each of us is endearing but impossible.

  “You can’t be transparent with me, tell me that I can trust you and keep Chris in the dark,” she says bewildered. This is the choice she’ll have to make, one of the most important. Who she thinks she loves most or whom she wants to be more present with when we integrate isn’t important. She doesn’t have a choice in that, but who she will give her trust to, who she’ll listen to, that is where her power lies. And if she’s smart, she’ll choose me.